More Than Time and Space
by Nick-ed
Summary: After the dance, Doc didn't go home. Doc/Clara; M for sex; takes place during BttF3 during the canon timeline.


**That night after the dance and Doc didn't come back.**

* * *

She pulled back from the kiss first, her face glowing and her body fidgeting with hormonal activity. I hung forward awkwardly, still leaning into the place where her illogically sweet lips had been mere seconds ago. Realising that what I was doing was incorrect, I returned to my previous sitting position. My heart-rate was high- I felt the rush of adrenaline sweeping over me, crashing together in my head, demolishing every ounce of logic and reason I held.

She was looking at me- I could feel it. The practical thing to do would have been to return the eye-contact, but I didn't. Instead I looked at my hands clenched in my lap. I was petrified. I didn't know what to do under these conditions.

"Emmett?" Her voice, her gentle, soothing dialect, whispered in my ear. I shivered as her warm breath brushed against the ear's rim and tickled its cavernous interior. She lay a hand on my knee, squeezing softly.

"Y-yes, Clara?" I mumbled foolishly. Suddenly the act of speech seemed alien to me- as if it were somehow no longer relevant in the grand scheme of things. A small, quick smile passed over her face.

"Would you like to go inside?"

_ No. No, Emmett. Don't do it. You have work to do- timelines to restore- yourself to save! Think of the train. Think of Marty. Think- think of science! You're out of your element, Brown. You don't have the proper knowledge or experience with these matters. You-_

"Yes, Clara. I would like that," I said quietly and took her small, gloved hand in mine. The horses were tied up, the precious bronze telescope was returned to its case, and I found myself standing in Clara Clayton's home. The interior was warm with lightly painted walls and modestly ornate décor. Sprigs and flowers were tucked into every corner and lace was laid over tables and furnishings. The room smelled of roses and spice. I took an uneasy breath.

"Your coat?" She patted my arm.

"Oh, yes, of course. Sorry." I removed my dusty overcoat and hat, hung them on the nearby rack, and nervously adjusted my shirt, brushing off dirt that wasn't there and tugging on the sleeves to straighten them. I followed Clara to the couch where she motioned for me to sit. I hesitated before taking a seat at the end of the couch, trying my damnedest not to look at her. She smiled and sat down beside me, her thigh mere centimeters from mine. I could feel warmth emanating from her and we sat there for a long, tense moment, each staring at that small patch of floor just above our own feet. I felt utterly foolish, being as afraid as I was. I, Doctor Emmett Lathrop Brown: a time-traveler, an adventurer, a reknowned scientist and creator of the flux capacitor. An outcast. A wash-out. A madman. _A virgin_. I felt cold and numb. I heard a sharp intake of breath cut through the silence as she turned to me to speak.

"W-would you like some tea?"

_She stuttered. _A weight lifted from the pits of my stomach. _She's as nervous as I am. Thank god._

I licked my lips. "Oh, don't bother yourself. I'm fine," I tried to laugh nonchalantly. "Unless you wanted some, of course!" I added quickly.

"No. No, I'm fine as well," she smiled.

"Ah. Then we're both fine."

"Yes."

"That's good."

"...Yes."

My fingers drummed against my knees in rapid succession. "This is a nice place they set you up with," I said, trying to distract myself from her closeness.

"Oh yes," she sighed. "It's very nice."

"Yeah."

There was a pregnant pause and then she laid her hand over mine and stopped my tapping fingers. I gulped sharply. She ran her palm across my knuckles, over the protruding blue veins that spread like spiderwebs below my skin.

"Is there anything else you'd like?" Clara said coyly. I nearly choked.

I swallowed the tight ball of anxiety that had lumped itself in my throat. "Cuh-Clara," I sputtered, glancing at her. "Clara, I have to tell you... I have to tell you something... I've never-"

She silenced me with a single finger pressed to my lips. She was smiling so very, very gently.

"It's alright, Emmett. You don't have to say anything," she whispered. My mouth hung open slightly but I wasn't aware of it until it snapped shut. I took that hand, enveloping it in my own. My brain shut down completely as I brought her hand to my lips, as if all the oxygen had rushed out from my head and into my legs, which suddenly felt light and wobbly. I couldn't see, I couldn't think, I could barely breath. Everything was white and warm and uncertain and wonderful.

I wasn't aware that I had taken my other hand and brought it to her face, carefully cupping her cheek, before I kissed her again. A sense of urgency overtook me as our lips collided and meshed. Clara was radiant, her face blushed and her breath feathery and light as she leaned into our kiss. My long fingers somehow found themselves tangled in her soft brown curls. We broke, panting, red, and euphoric. My head felt so heavy. I leaned my tall, heavily creased forehead against her smaller, rounded one and closed my eyes. Our noses brushed lightly and I could feel her warmth transferring into me. Her hands found mine and we linked them. Her thumbs caressed my worn knuckles and calloused, gritty palms.

I don't know how long we stayed like that. It felt like ages. It felt like a mere few seconds- not long enough.

She stood.

I looked up at her with awe and wonder, not fully aware of what was happening, but not entirely minding. I was entranced by her- her small, curved body, her smiling face and graceful hands.

When she held her hand out to me I took it without hesitation. I followed her out of the living room, down a short hallway, and through a door, which she closed behind us. I took a few steps into the room before I realised.

"Clara...!" I cried. I didn't know why I said her name. I wanted to ask her a question or make some sort of protest or an affirmation, but nothing else came out.

Her bedroom was lit by two gas lanterns, giving it a warm, flickering glow. The bed was placed squarely in the center of the far wall, flanked by a night-stand and a small vanity table.

And there I was, struggling to stand, trapped in the middle of Clara Clayton's bedroom, unable to speak. I spun around to face her, not yet knowing what I was going to say, praying that something would just come to me. The moment I stilled, though, she had eased her arms around me and pressed herself against my chest. Her touch sucked the air from my lungs in a gasping sigh. I stood there awkwardly for a moment, my hands hanging at my sides like weights, before I carefully wrapped my arms around her. I felt like my knees could give at any second.

"Clara... I love you," I said more steadily than I thought I was capable of sounding under these circumstances. Her soft hair brushed against my nose when she lifted her head to look at my face. She smiled sweetly.

"And I love you, Emmett," she replied in a simple, matter-of-fact manner.

"I... I've never done this before..." I said less steadily than before. Her smile didn't falter, but spread instead.

"Oh, I thought so... I can usually tell these sorts of things," she chuckled as she traced a finger around my chest, picking at the buttons of my shirt playfully. "And that's okay!" She tacked on quickly, seeing my slightly insulted frown, "That's what I like about you. You're different from the other men- the ones who only want sex. The ones who use a woman's body without appreciating her mind."

A kiss on the side of my neck.

"So..."

On the ridge of my jaw.

"...I'll be more than happy..."

A nip on my ear, with her balanced delicately on her toes to reach.

"... To teach you."

She pushed me backwards gently until my calves hit the side of the bed and I dropped down onto the soft mattress. She turned her back to me and pointed to the long, slender zipper that held her dress together.

"Could you please...?"

My throat went dry and I coughed before slowly reaching out and carefully taking the head of the zipper. With as much delicacy as I could muster, I tugged it down, revealing, inch-by-inch, the smooth, bare skin of Clara's back. I couldn't resist- I kissed it. She giggled happily at this before she slid the white dress off her shoulders and onto the floor. Clad in nothing but her undergarments- lacy, fragile lingerie- and her shoes, which she quickly kicked off, she turned to me. Her skin was rosy, with small, fine freckles dotting her graceful shoulders. Just looking at her, like this, made my heart quicken and my breath freeze. She blushed, fidgeting modestly. She stepped towards me and pressed a single finger on the button of my shirt closest to my throat.

"May I?"

I gulped and nodded. She slid my vest back over my shoulders, letting it slip down my arms and around my wrists, before she undid that first button. I watched her as she did it, as she removed my rough cotton shirt in a similar manner to how she removed my vest. I watched her hands fan themselves across my pale, aged chest. Suddenly I realised how old I was compared to her. Her with her ripe body- while not that of a young girl, she still retained such a youthful exuberance. And I with my ribs jutting out just above my slightly flabby belly. Tall, wiry, bony- like a scarecrow. A wave of self-conscious uneasiness washed over me and I closed my eyes, leaning forward into the nape of her neck, burying my face in the hair that draped down over her shoulder.

Then, with a jolt, I felt where her hands had settles and I drew back sharply.

"Wait!" I yelped, covering myself where she had began unbuttoning my pants. The mere touch of her fingers through the rough fabric sent chills through me. She tilted her head to the side and emitted a very small sigh.

"Shy?" She asked, her lips pursed gently.

"I-ah-" I muttered incongruently. My face was burning, I could feel it. I guess she took that for a "yes".

"Well, then... let's take it slow, shall we?" She knelt down before me and pushed my legs apart. I swallowed hard as she leaned in and brushed the tip of her nose against the strained material of my trousers. I somehow managed to choke on my own breath.

"Cuh-Clara, please..." I struggled to speak. This woman, this curvaceous, angelic brunette, parted her lips and pressed them against me- against my sore, hidden erection- and moved them across it.

I'm an old man, over 70 years of age, and though I may not have experienced the pleasures of lovemaking with a partner, I have, of course, dabbled in the practise of masturbation. And after 70 years I reckoned I had developed a pretty damn good technique.

_I was an idiot._

All those lonely nights of drinking and lewd magazines and pure, desperate loneliness could never in all of time compare to the ecstasy that coursed through me with a mere touch from the one I love.

I want to hold her...

"Please... come here," I brushed her hair back and she looked up at me, grinned, and slid up against me until we were nose-to-nose and our bodies were entirely flushed together. We fell back against the mattress, her weight was firm against my chest. My hands wandered across her body, over her sloping shoulders, down her soft sides and her silky hips. I breathed in her scent- clean and floral, tinged with perspiration. I kissed her, tasting her hungrily, and slid a hand up to curl around her breast. She gasped, a little puff of air against my teeth, when I ran a thumb over her it, brushing against her hidden nipple.

"Ah, let me..." She sat up, straddling me, her posterior planted firmly against my length, driving me wild with every little shifting movement she made. I was convinced she was doing it on purpose, too. With practised ease she unhooked her brassiere and tossed it away somewhere behind her. I blinked, blushing at the sight of her, though not as much as she did. With an embarrassed flourish, she grabbed my hands and covered herself with them. At first my fingers were rigid, unsure of what to do, but they quickly melted into her softness and started caressing, rubbing, and gently squeezing those wonderful breasts of hers. I admired her with a fascinated, childlike awe- her simple beauty and complex demeanor.

_I-I wanted her._

With a sudden rush of energy I shifted and rolled myself on top of her, panting slightly and my head dazed and light with desire. She made an excited little noise, a squeal of joy as I kissed her face, her throat, her collarbone, her supple breast. In response, she snuck a firm leg between my thighs and pressed her knee against my most sensitive area. I nearly collapsed into her at the sensation and I'm afraid I didn't manage to hide my reaction very well.

"Hey," Clara chirped.

"H-hey, what?"

"Why don't you take those pants off now, Emmett?" She lifted her head up to brush her nose against mine. I didn't hesitate this time. I rolled onto my side beside her and busied myself with my trousers, trying desperately to undo each button with trembling fingers. Finally I slid them and my 100% cotton shorts off and kicked them off the bed before crawling back on top of Clara's warm body. My hard-on bumped and settled against her belly. With a supple grace she wrapped her legs around my waist, lifting her bountiful, moist parts to mine. The sensation was stunning- my bony hips bucked and shook of their own accord, trying their very hardest to meet with their counterpart. My head fell, my face nestling into Clara's shoulder, as every ounce of my energy traveled to my lower half, trying its best to control and contain the overwhelming desire that had been sparked there. Needless to say my valiant efforts didn't succeed.

"It's okay, Emmett," Clara offered, "Just do what feels right. But..." She grasped my forearm and slid my hand between our pulsing bodies, "I want you to touch me first." My fingers grazed the edge of her lace panties. I watched her face redden and glow as I slipped my hand between her legs to cup her already wet womanhood. Two fingers between the lips, running up her until they reached that small, sensitive spot at her peak. Her back arched and she moaned beautifully, her body twisting against me. I caressed her, rubbing my thumb against her clit with great delicacy.

"Oh-oh my god..." She breathed. I swear to God I felt like I was losing my mind in that moment, watching her.

Then I found her entrance, hesitated, and slipped a single digit into her curiously. She gasped.

"Yes- yes! That's good... more!" She said quickly, desperately. I obliged, curling two fingers into her warm, slick entrance. She shuddered. I began stroking her, my fingers slipping in and out of her rhythmically. Her breath accelerated into a series of squeaking gasps, her fingers entwining themselves in my hair.

"W-wait...!" She hiccupped suddenly and I froze. A coy smile played across her lips. "I want you inside me."

I think my mind overheated at that moment- I merely gawked at her stupidly. She laughed warmly, unraveled her legs from me, reached down, and took me into her hand.

That was enough to bring me back and I engulfed her with my lips. Our breath melted together, hot and cold at the same time, as I carefully eased my hips to meet hers. She guided me with her small hands until my tip prodded her and I slowly slid in.

It was tight. Every cell in my head burst into a chaotic frenzy.

"A-ah..." I sputtered, my arms tense and my hands gripping the thick blanket on wither side of my sweet Clara's shoulders. I tried to steady myself before I started moving in and out of her, her juices slick and warm against my swollen member. I kissed her again, her face, her throat- with each blissful collision of our bodies I could feel myself growing closer and closer to release. Electric white sparks shot across my eyes as I rammed myself into her, my movements becoming erratic, every muscle in my body strained.

She cried out. She cried my name as she hit her climax with a tremulous shudder of pleasure. Then a wave ripped through me and I came , emptying myself into her. I collapsed on top of her, panting, riding on the currents of the orgasm. Closing my eyes, I melted into her softness, drowning myself in her scent. I pulled out of her as carefully as I could muster and fell helplessly onto my side, my arm spread sloppily across her stomach. She turned to face me, running a graceful hand through my wiry hair.

Clara smiled. "Hey," she whispered, panting slightly.

"Yeah?" I responded just as quietly, but panting twice as much.

"I love you."

My heart skipped a beat, a jarring, wonderful feeling.

"Clara, I have a confession to make," I said, swallowing.

"Mmm?"

"I love you... more than I have ever loved anyone in all of space and time." I stroked her cheek. "I would do anything for you."

She gave me an odd look and laughed, shoving my shoulder playfully.

"You always say such odd things!" Clara giggled, "But that's why I love you." She pursed her lips. I kissed them obediently. "I really do love you, Emmett."

"Y-yes... thank you..." I sputtered foolishly. She laughed at this, too, but not condescendingly.

"You're very welcome," she replied politely, "And thank you, too."

"Ah, you're welcome."

She smiled.

She turned out the bedside lamp and pulled the blankets up over us before curling up against me, snuggling herself against my chest as I wrapped my arms around her. I kissed the top of her head.

"Clara?" I said so quietly I could barely hear myself.

"Uh-huh?" The small brunette mumbled sleepily, her face flush against my chest.

"I want to stay with you." A lump gathered in the back of my throat.

"I want you to stay with me, too."

"Forever?"

"Forever."

"Okay."

"Good."

We fell asleep.

_-Fin_

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**Author's note:  
**Why does this ship have no fics? I mean, seriously. It's a great, canon ship and people just completely disregard it. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this fic- I gave it my all. Perhaps too much, actually. Oh well.


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